CHAPTER 9
Zeke
As far as scenes went, this one was setting up nicely.
I was rather impressed with how my new fuck toys were handling themselves.
I’d figured the cowboy would’ve caved by now.
The weight on their balls alone would cause enough pain that most submissives would’ve screamed out their safe word ten times over.
Not these two.
Granted, they technically didn’t have a safe word. I only said as much because we were in the club. If either of them used it, that would be the end of our scene and our interactions.
I could tell by the look on the pretty boy’s face that he was getting his fix.
He could handle more than I’d given him, but this wasn’t about a race to the finish line for him or for me.
I needed to give them time for the pain to register, for it to sink into their brains.
At this point, a submissive would be trying to figure out how to stand to ease some of the ache in their joints from the position of their limbs.
But every movement would cause those tiny pricks on the underside of the leather to stab into their balls.
Just enough to make them catch their breath.
I enjoyed cock and ball torture because it was a humbling experience for a submissive.
Naked and on display, their most sensitive parts being tortured before an audience.
They wouldn’t have time to feel modesty because they were too busy addressing the pain of having their family jewels pulled away from their bodies.
Admittedly, these two made me feel invincible.
They were worthy opponents for sure. It was the very reason I’d removed my shirt, something I wasn’t prone to do in the club.
It wasn’t necessarily a rule of mine, but I generally avoided it.
Same as I avoided having sex in the club.
I didn’t need a bunch of submissives slobbering all over me, and that tended to happen.
It wasn’t ego, either. I had no delusions that I was a handsome man.
It was the edge of danger I presented. The bald head, beard, and tattoos exacerbated the danger.
Six foot eight inches, two hundred seventy pounds of solid muscle posed an enormous threat.
I could see the appreciation in my fuck toys’ eyes as they stared back at me. You could put the pretty boy up against any other man in this building, and he looked like a beast. Put him up next to me, and I made him small in comparison.
And while I didn’t usually seek approval from anyone, I appreciated the admiration I could see staring back at me from both of my new toys. I’d go so far as to say I wanted it.
“Seriously,” someone whispered from behind me. “He took his shirt off. I can’t believe this.”
I pivoted around to find the owner of the voice. There in the front row was a scrawny submissive, his eyes wide as he stared up at me. I took three steps closer and glared down at him. “One more word out of you tonight and you’ll become intimately familiar with figging.”
The boy’s eyebrows raised. “What’s that?”
Someone gasped because, yes, with those two words, he had already violated my warning. And I wasn’t the sort to let anyone off easy.
“It’s when a ginger root is shoved up your ass,” I said, being purposely crude. “The ginger oil causes a burning sensation. Starts out mild, but the more you clench on the root, the more intense it gets.”
The boy’s eyes were wide.
I smirked, then glanced toward the back of the group, locating one of the more revered Dominatrixes. She enjoyed doling out pain almost as much as I did.
“Mistress Cameron, since this submissive doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, I’d appreciate your help in showing him just what it feels like.”
“It’d be my pleasure, Master Zeke.” She moved around the group, coming to stand beside the boy.
“Should you choose to safe word out, you will be banned from the club for two months,” I informed him. It was one thing to use a safe word when things became overwhelming, another altogether when it was to avoid punishment. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Zeke.”
Mistress Cameron raised one hand, her red-tipped talons curling around his bicep. “Right this way, pet. I promise, you will not enjoy this.”
Once they were heading up the stairs leading out of the dungeon, I scanned the crowd. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
No one spoke. I hadn’t expected them to. The Doms in the back row grinned. They were often amused by the amount of control I maintained during a scene. It was imperative that these toys learned how to behave. What was the point in owning one if they didn’t do as you wanted?
Pivoting back around, I took in my two fuck toys. I paced in front of them while my eyes raked over them, checking their wrists, their ankles, their balls. So far, so good.
Now it was time to show them what real pain was.
Brax (the cowboy)
When Zeke turned around to face us after sending the submissive off to have a ginger root shoved up his ass, I could see the intent in his black gaze. His muscles flexed, as though they were readying themselves for battle. He was getting down to business.
Red!
Red, red, red!
That was the only thing blazing through my brain, but no matter how badly I wanted to yell out my safe word, I couldn’t. Not because I wasn’t physically capable. I was. I could speak if I needed to.
No. It wasn’t inability that held me back; it was a deep, dark hunger that willed me forward.
I’d never experienced anything quite like this before.
The damn plug in my ass, the fucking harness thing on my balls, those brutal weights causing the steel spikes to stab into my scrotum, heat blooming on my skin, a fuzziness forming in my brain.
I was high on endorphins. It was too much, but for some reason, I wanted more.
And the moment Zeke had stripped his shirt off, I’d thought I would come from the sight alone.
I’d seen him play plenty of times, but the giant Sadist wasn’t one to remove his clothing in the club.
I’d never even seen him without a shirt.
And fucking shit, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive it now.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. It felt as though Zeke was doing it for us. Possibly without knowing it, he was giving back to us as a reward for what we were giving him.
He was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen. At six three, I wasn’t a small man. I always felt relatively small compared to Case because I didn’t have the muscle mass that he did. But up against Zeke, I was minuscule in comparison. It caused an odd sense of vulnerability to wash over me.
I breathed in deep, exhaled slowly, allowing the pain to morph into intense pleasure.
I was doing relatively decent until Zeke pulled a braided whip from his belt.
How I hadn’t noticed it earlier, I wasn’t sure.
But it was long, with multiple tails and knotted ends.
Like a flogger on steroids. It was the same one he’d used on Case when he’d overtaken the scene I had observed a week ago.
Zeke turned away from us, then pointed to a submissive standing near him. “You. Unchain his feet,” he instructed the submissive as he pointed to me. “And I want him”—he motioned to Case—“released completely. For now.”
Oh, fuck. Unchaining my feet meant I would be shifting, which meant the damn torture apparatus on my balls would move, and it was possible I would pass out.
The submissive rushed to do as instructed while Zeke stood back and watched.
I noticed his eyes continued to look at our hands, our arms. He was assessing the scene, ensuring we weren’t enduring any unintentional pain or damage.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a Dom quite as attentive to that sort of thing as Zeke.
Or maybe I just hadn’t paid that much attention.
“Move your feet together,” he commanded when my ankles were free.
My teeth were going to be chalk by the time this was done.
I eased my legs together, grunting as the weight dragged those damn spikes into my balls.
It felt as though they’d punctured the skin, but I knew they hadn’t.
That wasn’t their intent. The pain was the goal, the constant pin-prick-like stabs to my most sensitive area, sure. Not blood.
Standing tall allowed some of the strain on my shoulders to ease. I flexed my hands, then gripped the chains, trying to relieve the tension. Zeke didn’t miss the movement, his eyes shooting up to my hands, then down to my face. He must’ve approved of what he saw, because he turned to Case.
“Move back against the wall. I expect you to watch.”
“Yes, Zeke.” There was a grunt to follow Case’s words as he stepped back out of the way. I could imagine it felt as though he was dragging his balls on the ground.
When the submissive scurried off and Case was out of the strike zone, Zeke gripped the tails of his whip, dragging them through his big fist as he moved closer. His eyes were fixed on me and only me. The intensity I saw there had my breath halting in my lungs.
“Five,” he told me. “That’s what I expect you to take.”
Five licks with that thing? Fuck. That seemed like a million at this point.
When Zeke had played with Case, he’d dished out twelve before Case came. He was going easy on me.
Zeke came to stand directly in front of me. I tilted my head back to look into his eyes.
“Five, cowboy.” His voice was low enough I doubted anyone else heard him. “You survive that, you will go home with me and be wearing my collar by the end of the night. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Zeke.” My voice trembled because the excruciating pain continued to flood my system.
My balls felt as though they were dragging on the floor, seconds away from being ripped from my body.
Yet my mind was now on the potential of being collared by this man.
A strange feeling filled my chest. As though there was some sort of light on the inside, daring to come out.
“After five, you have my permission to come.”
“Yes, Zeke.” I wasn’t sure that was even possible with the torture apparatus on my balls, but there was no time to contemplate that because he disappeared behind me.
The audience was focused on me, a few shifting, probably to get a better view of those fucking tails licking my skin. I tried to relax, knowing the tension in my muscles would only make it worse. I remembered the first time I’d been flogged. The pain had been minimal compared to what I’d expected.
I doubted that was going to be the case now.
The deep throb of the music warred with the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. I waited, no way to see what Zeke was doing or when he was going to—
“Fuck!” I cried out as those wicked tails snapped against me. It felt as though the skin had been ripped away, the fires of Hell having nothing on the agony that lanced me. I breathed through it, my cock throbbing despite the pain. Or maybe because of it. I didn’t know at this point.
I thought I was ready for the next one, but it took me by surprise, coming far sooner than I anticipated. I jerked, my balls swinging, the spikes and the weight making my eyes water.
When the next one came, it wasn’t quite as intense. I figured that was due to the shock, the weird feeling that overtook me. Like I was floating above myself. I shifted forward, groaning from the torture. It morphed into one fireball of agony that seemed to bloom over my entire body.
The fourth one caused my arms to weaken, my hands releasing the grip on the chain.
And the fifth came right after. My brain registered the number, my cock swelled, my balls drew up tight, and I came in a rush that was so fucking painful I would’ve fallen to the floor had I not been held up by the cuffs around my wrists.
“Release him!” Zeke yelled, his voice a dull roar in my ears.
The next thing I knew, two submissives—big men I didn’t know—came forward. With a strange sense of urgency, they freed me, then bore my weight on their bodies, broad shoulders tucking beneath my arms.
Zeke appeared before me. “You did good, cowboy.”
His praise didn’t lessen the intense sensations stabbing into me, but it was more than I expected.
“Thank you, Zeke.”
When Zeke moved away, I was vaguely aware of a submissive wearing rubber gloves rushing forward with a towel and spray bottle filled with some sort of cleaner.
The mess I made was quickly cleaned, and then Mistress Jane was coming forward, her hand dipping down between my legs.
In an instant, my balls were freed, and air slammed into my lungs as the pain reversed, only to transform into something equally fierce, the spikes dislodging from my tender skin.
Mistress Jane offered a nod behind me before she turned.
With the submissives’ help, I put one foot in front of the other. And as they led me into one of the private aftercare rooms, I found that I was smiling, the euphoric feeling taking over.
It was the first time I’d ever experienced a high quite like that. And it had me wondering just what I’d been missing out on.
More importantly, just what I was getting myself into.